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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25974031">Automotive Interior Design</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreamingAtTheSky/pseuds/ScreamingAtTheSky'>ScreamingAtTheSky</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Community (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:55:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,533</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25974031</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreamingAtTheSky/pseuds/ScreamingAtTheSky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This takes place after Critical Film Studies because, basically, I can't get that scene of Jeff and Britta dancing together dressed as Pulp Fiction characters out of my head! It is a slight canon divergence in that Britta and Jeff have not slept together since the first paintball game the previous year, but (spoiler alert) they DO get together now...in his car!</p><p>(I really do not like writing these summaries...but I do hope you enjoy reading this piece!)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Britta Perry/Jeff Winger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Automotive Interior Design</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jeff shakes his head as he takes his keys out of his pocket and jiggles them around in his left hand. He exits the restaurant and heads for his car, already looking forward to the glass of scotch he’s going to enjoy when he gets back to his apartment, alone. Whether concluding a birthday party at a fancy restaurant, like tonight, or wrapping up a study session on a Wednesday afternoon, the study group’s goodbyes take at least twenty minutes and this evening’s had been no different. Jeff knows his friends’ patterns by now, and yet, somehow, he <i>still</i> forgets every time. Between butt-related fist bumps with Troy (no matter how many times he asks him not to do that anymore), comparisons of the evening’s events to sitcom tropes with Abed, hugs upon hugs with Shirley and Annie, and avoiding racist/homophobic/sexist jokes from Pierce, Jeff needs to start remembering to gear up to leave a party well before he’s basically desperate to. </p><p>He thinks about this as he walks to his car, promising himself that he’ll do better next time (still a little surprised that he’s actually looking forward to next time), when he realizes that he didn’t notice Britta leave the party. He’s surprised at that since, other than when he was having revealing and unsettling conversations with Abed, he’d pretty much been tracking Britta all night. She looked amazing dressed as Mia Wallace from Pulp Fiction. (Was that tied with “making Abed happy” for the number one reason he’d had the idea to throw Abed this themed birthday party? He can neither confirm nor deny that.) She’d nailed the costume, down to the cropped black wig and seductive red lips. But seeing Britta barefoot, swinging her hips on the dance floor, looking like some free-spirited goddess made Jeff <i>remember.</i></p><p>It made him long for the end of their first year at Greendale, when a solid ten months of following her around, becoming her friend, tolerating her insane politics, and eventually realizing he genuinely <i>liked</i> her had culminated in a game of Paintball Assassin - a game that then culminated in them being the last two standing and having sex on the table in the study room that had become their second home over the past year. And not just any kind of sex. Mind-blowing sex. The kind of sex he knew they’d have since the moment she first shook his hand in the Greendale Community College cafeteria. Sex he still thought about fairly often. Not just because it was good - and it was good, no matter what Britta tries to pretend about his sexual prowess - but because he knew <i>why</i> it was good. Having sex with a beautiful woman was great and he’d had his share of it. Probably more than his fair share actually. But sex with a woman you genuinely care about? A woman who calls you on your shit every chance she gets? A woman who accepts you as you are which inevitably forces you to be better? He finally understood what everyone was talking about when they said that sex could mean more. And that was too real for Jeff Winger. So after that night he distanced himself from Britta and instead focused on kissing beautiful nineteen-year-old women whose presence in his life didn’t force him to face reality because there was no real future with them, women like Annie (ok, well, really just Annie), misguided as that may have been. The point is, Britta was too much for him - all serious and passionate and aggressively empathetic and she made him reflect on lame, insignificant things, like his treatment of women, the origins of his need to be the best at everything, and his frayed relationship with his dad, and now he couldn’t get her nagging voice out of his head half the time. He couldn’t explain this power Britta had over him, but he did know one thing – it had to stop.</p><p>As he approaches his sweet, shiny Lexus, his haven of solitude, he decides once and for all that from now on, all thoughts of Britta Perry that don’t include studying for their shared Anthropology class must be pushed to the side, including when she left this party, how she got home, and which part of her costume she took off first...</p><p>And this would all be a lot easier to do if she wasn’t leaning her ass against the passenger side door of his Lexus right now, arms folded like armor across her chest and shooting daggers at him with her eyes. She’s still wearing her costume - white button-down shirt, black leggings, wig covering her blonde hair, even her lipstick hasn’t smudged. He knows he’d like to change that, mess her up a little, but in keeping with his new promise to himself, he shoves that thought from his mind.</p><p>She really does look like a gorgeous grenade though and, somehow, it seems that he’s the one who’s pulled her pin. Again. He can’t think of what’s gotten her so upset this time so he’s not sure what to say as he approaches, but, as usual, Britta doesn’t even give him a second to form cohesive thoughts before diving right in.</p><p>“I lost my job, Jeff. My job!”</p><p>Jeff throws his hands up in surrender. “Hey, it was your idea to have the party at the diner. The rest was out of my hands.”</p><p>She rolls her eyes and scoffs. “You could have gotten me my job back and you didn’t! You barely tried! How am I supposed to pay for Daniel’s eye surgery now?”</p><p>“Well, gee, I don’t know Britta, here’s a thought. Get a normal cat!” </p><p>In his opinion, one of the less endearing and more infuriating parts of Britta’s personality was her need to take care of everyone and everything, including shelter cats who needed so much more than the almost-thirty high school dropout could provide.</p><p>She rises from her lean on the car and points a finger in Jeff’s face. “That is so typical of you, Jeff. Anyone who doesn’t fit your definition of what makes for a ‘normal’ member of society doesn’t deserve your respect or attention.”</p><p>“I’d like to remind you that we’re talking about a cat.”</p><p>“And <i>I’d</i> like to remind <i>you</i> that we’re talking about my job! The job I don’t have any more, and you could have done something about that, and you didn’t. Pretty fucked up. Even for you, Winger.”</p><p>Jeff does feel slightly bad about that. But after your friends start a small fire in the middle of The Greasy Fork during an after-hours birthday party that you planned, you don’t haggle with the manager to get your friend’s job back if he agrees to forget the whole thing for $800. Even if the only reason they could use the place at all is because Britta works there. Or worked, as the case may be. And besides, Britta was acting like he fired her. He couldn’t force her boss to give her her job back. He wasn’t that powerful, despite what he told himself in the mirror every morning.</p><p>“Look, Britta, I’m sorry that you lost your dream job of propagating the epidemic that is American obesity.” He smirks at her and she smirks back. “But you will find another job. I’ll...I’ll help you.”</p><p>He’s taken aback by his own offer. He’s not usually one to consider the needs of others, especially not when doing so would force him to do...well, anything at all, really, but getting to know this group, especially Britta, has softened him over the past year-and-a-half.</p><p>Her anger is assuaged slightly by his offer and she leans back against his car door once again. “Thanks. It is the <i>least</i> you could do.” She stares off in thought for a moment, her mouth turned down in a pensive frown. “I really do need the money. Maybe they’re hiring.”</p><p>Britta points at the door of the insanely expensive restaurant they just vacated. Jeff had been there twice tonight - once to meet Abed for dinner (per his request) before the surprise party Jeff had planned, and once to go back and pay the bill that, unbeknownst to him, Abed had cut out on when they left. It was during his second visit that Abed and their friends surprised <i>him</i> with a party to make up for the Pulp Fiction one that was supposed to have taken place at The Greasy Fork. The same nostalgic-themed diner that had been damaged in a briefcase fire during the time he and Abed were having their dinner. He finds himself asking for the millionth time since September 2009, what had his life become?</p><p>“Hmm, this place has cloth napkins and serves lobster. I don’t think they’re looking for your particular breed of anarchist here. Establishments like this tend to look for more...<i>sophisticated</i> servers.”</p><p>He leans next to her now and bumps her shoulder with his to soften the blow of his words as he says them. She turns her body to face him, leaning on her side now and she’s so petite that he has to lean his head all the way down just to meet her eyes. She looks tired and a little sad, but she’s never one to back down from a war of words with Jeff. He hopes that’s always the case. Nothing beats going head to head with a formidable opponent. His verbal spars with Britta have been the closest Jeff has come to feeling like his old self again - the conniving, manipulative faux-lawyer, that is. The guy who could take people down and get cases thrown out on technicalities in the blink of an eye. Not this good-boy wannabe who’s attending a community college so he can get an actual bachelor’s degree in who-fucking-knows-what. Not this guy who’s actually <i>listening</i> to the words coming out of the mouth of the beautiful, diminutive woman staring up at him instead of kissing her senseless in the moonlight. God, he misses Old Jeff.</p><p>“By ‘sophisticated,’ do you mean young, attractive women who’ll sleep with you if your, uh, <i>tip</i> is big enough?”</p><p>“I plead the fifth.”</p><p>“I didn’t think <i>you’d</i> need to pay for sex, Jeff.” She cocks her head to the side and raises her eyebrows at him. </p><p>“Anything to support struggling sex workers, Britta. I’m what the kids call an ally.”</p><p>She scrunches her nose and narrows her eyes in disgust. “You’re what <i>I</i> call a pig. But thank you for the information - now I know where not to look for waitressing jobs.”</p><p>He looks at her out of the corner of his eye. She’s leaning her head against the roof of his car, eyes closed. It’s nice to see her so relaxed and calm in his presence, even if she is feeling a little down. Her wig is slightly askew now, revealing some stray strands of blonde hair poking through. He considers reaching over and tucking the strands behind her ear, but when he tried that in the past it startled her, and he doesn’t want to send her running right now. For all the time he spends with Britta, and it is a lot, it’s rare that he gets her alone like this anymore, without the rest of their study group piling on and chiming in and interjecting with some crazy comment or another. It’s peaceful to just talk to her one-on-one for a few moments.</p><p>“So, why are you still here anyway? Just waited around to yell at me?” He’s hoping she’ll say she waited so she could do more than just yell at him - and then he immediately forces that thought from his mind.</p><p>“Oh yeah, you’re worth it.” She opens her eyes to stare into his and gives him a bright smile. He is instantly transported back to last year’s Valentine’s Dance after she’d embarrassed herself by drunk-dialing him. He’d left her a drunken voicemail to restore the balance between them and couldn’t remember what he’d said. She came all the way to the dance, dressed to the nines, just to pretend that in his message he’d asked her to meet him there and be his date. He couldn’t believe she’d gone through all that trouble just to mess with him – he had to respect her commitment to the bit. But it also made him realize that she enjoyed their playful banter and friendly fire as much as he did. And that maybe she, too, fed off of excitement and drama and lust. (Well, that last one was wishful thinking.)</p><p>Before he can respond, she’s talking again. “Actually, I came out here to call Brian to beg him for my job back again. But, when that didn’t work, I called an Uber. They should be here in a few minutes.”</p><p>Without hesitation, he says the first thought that pops into his mind. “Cancel it.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>He stands up straighter. “Cancel the Uber. Save some money. I’ll drive you to your apartment.”</p><p>“Jeff, I can’t ask you to do that—“</p><p>“You didn’t. I offered. Come on, get in.”</p><p>“Yeah, ok. Thanks...” Her voice trails off and her head drops as she starts fiddling with the buttons on her phone.</p><p>Jeff walks around and gets in the driver’s seat, taking a deep, steadying breath as he does so. He can’t even pretend he doesn’t know why he’s doing this. He knows exactly why. He was enjoying talking to her so much, he didn’t want it to end. If she’d gotten in her Uber, the spell would have been broken and their time together cut short. Plus, the more he talks to her, the better his chances become of getting to kiss that red lipstick right off her face. He’d charmed her once before; he could do it again. <i>Should</i> he though? Well, that’s a question that Old Jeff never would have asked, and he’s choosing to take a page from that guy’s book tonight.</p><p>She slips into the passenger’s seat next to him and shoots him a quick smile as she closes the door. “I really do appreciate this, Jeff. What would the group think if they saw us now, huh? Getting along for once. They’d think hell was about to freeze over, right?”</p><p>While she rambles on, he turns toward her and takes in her movements as she removes her wig and shakes out her blonde hair. Follows her fingers as they comb out her waves. Notices how she has the first two buttons of her shirt undone and if she turns just so he can see the top of her bra. He wills his hands to complete the necessary motions of inserting the key into the ignition and starting the car, but they won’t cooperate. It’s as if his entire body is frozen, but his brain won’t shut down - he’s consumed with thoughts of her, memories of what was, visions of what could be.</p><p>“Jeff?” She’s staring at him now, wide-eyed, concerned, but no longer angry. That was the thing about Britta and him - they could bicker with the best of them, but they didn’t hold grudges and they didn’t stay mad at each other for long, almost like they somehow just knew there was never <i>actual</i> malice behind their words. “Is everything ok?”</p><p>“Oh, yeah. I was just thinking about last year.” He shoots her what he hopes is a meaningful look, but it doesn’t quite land. She can be such a goon when it comes to subtlety and nuance.</p><p>“Oooo-kaaay, well do you think you could handle thinking and driving at the same time?” She chuckles to herself, pleased with her humor.</p><p>“In a hurry to get back to your cat-infested dirt-ridden hole-in-the-wall, Britta?” The words come out harsher and more pointed than he intended, but something in her just brings it out in him. Maybe it’s because he knows she can take it - even when she doesn’t actually deserve it.</p><p>“Wow Winger, misplaced aggression, much?” Rather than shutting down or cursing him out like most women would, she narrows her eyes at him and sticks out her tongue. He knows she probably thinks this face is very intimidating.</p><p>“You’re diagnosing <i>me</i> now?”</p><p>“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. I would never try to read someone as complex and layered as you are.” Her voice drips with sarcasm as she says this and the eye roll that accompanies it is icing on the cake.</p><p>“Are you implying that I’m one-dimensional, Britta?”</p><p>“Duh-doy. We can’t <i>all</i> be two-dimensional.” She gives him a smug smirk, no idea that what she’s saying is complete nonsense.</p><p>“Can’t we?”</p><p>“Jeff, the point is, you’re obviously upset about something else and taking it out on me. Remember when I quit smoking last year?”</p><p>“I remember you yelling at me and calling me pointy-face.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, I was <i>also</i> really mean to other people who <i>didn’t</i> deserve it.” He can’t help but smile as he continues looking at her. She’s funny as hell when she doesn’t mean to be. Undeterred, she continues, “You said you were thinking about last year. Something’s bothering you. You can tell me, you know.” She takes her left hand and rests it on his right arm, giving it a small squeeze. How can she drive him crazy and bring him comfort in the same breath?</p><p>“Dial back the drama, Britta. I was thinking about when we played paintball.”</p><p>Britta pulls her hand away from his arm and simply says, “Oh.” He sees her forehead crease in confusion.</p><p>“We had a lot of fun that day.”</p><p>Quiet falls over them as they both remember the events of that particular day at Greendale. The way they’d argued throughout the whole morning. The way she’d sacrificed her chance at winning for him. The noises she’d made as they fucked on the table. She was not quiet during sex and that was awesome but knowing that they both know that now made for some interesting silence in this car. Their eyes meet but they both look away quickly. He’s reminded of moments he’s shared with Annie, both of them ashamed of their mutual attraction to each other, fearful that the others might notice their connection. But this is Britta. They’re peers, equals, partners. They have nothing to hide from each other or anyone else. There’s nothing taboo about their feelings for each other and, frankly, he’s tired of worrying about how his emotions might affect five other adults - six if you count the dean. </p><p>The bottom line is, he has feelings for Britta. Hell, he might even love her. His life has certainly changed for the better since he met her, and he can’t imagine ever <i>not</i> knowing her now that she’s become such a constant in his life. The only thing missing is the ability to reach out and touch her anytime he wants, which happens to be a lot of times. He loves being with her, but he wants more. He’s wanted more since he met her and, though he’s tried to ignore it, that feeling has never gone away. Keeping her at arms’ length is practically impossible. He’s drawn to her like a moth to a flame and now she’s here, right next to him, avoiding his gaze by staring at her hands twisting in her lap. What would Old Jeff do?</p><p>“Britta...” He says her name like an invitation. When she turns to face him, he reaches out and pulls her body as flush with his as he can get it in the front of a car and kisses her like his life depends on it. She’s hesitant at first, but quickly gives in to the kiss, meeting his intensity and passion with her own, raking her hands along his neck and through his hair and pressing her body even more firmly against his. The feeling of kissing her is so...right. They’re two misshapen puzzle pieces that just fit together and he doesn’t ever want to let her go.</p><p>All too soon, Britta breaks their kiss. She holds his face in her hands and stares into his eyes. She looks flushed and a little stunned but, he’s happy to note, quite satisfied. “Well <i>that</i> was pretty dramatic, Jeff.”</p><p>“You’re welcome.” He moves forward to kiss her again and she leans back a little, placing a bracing hand on his chest.</p><p>“What are we doing?” Her face crinkles with concern.</p><p>“Well, Britta, in some parts of the world, it’s called making out.”</p><p>She laughs and rests her head against his shoulder for a moment before addressing him again. “You don’t say, Marvin Gaye. But seriously, you kissed me.”</p><p>“Yes. I did.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“If I have to explain that—“</p><p>“Jeff, come on.”</p><p>He stifles his urge to make another joke or flippant remark. He owes her some honesty. It’s just so easy to rile her up and talking about his feelings is Jeff’s definition of a waking nightmare.</p><p>“I don’t know, Britta. I just wanted to kiss you.”</p><p>“Well, we can’t just do everything we want anytime we feel like it, Jeffrey.”</p><p>“I didn’t hear <i>you</i> protesting.”</p><p>“You didn’t give me a chance to, jackass!”</p><p>“Fine. So, you don’t want me to kiss you, then?”</p><p>“I didn’t say that.”</p><p>Neither of them moves. They stare at each other again, heads a hair too close, as always. He’s not going to initiate anything this time. For all his bravado and feigned confidence, Jeff Winger knows women. He never wants to make anyone feel uncomfortable or trapped, especially not Britta. That would be the fastest way to get her to run and not come back and he’s already gotten more out of this night than he’d planned, so he’s not ready to risk anything yet.</p><p>Finally, Britta says, “Ah, fuck it,” and kisses him forcefully. He’s so relieved it takes him a second to catch up, but as soon as he registers what’s happening, his hands are everywhere - running up and down her spine, through her hair, along her sides and down her lower back. Britta groans into his mouth and, with that, everything changes. They’re nothing but hands, lips, and tongues now, giving into each other’s desires. He sucks on her bottom lip the way he knows she likes it and she grazes his thighs with her delicate fingers, basically driving him insane. They’re good at this - some might even argue they’re <i>made for this.</i> Never has he had this kind of a connection with someone, the emotional and the physical coming together to form this cataclysm of feelings inside of him.</p><p>When he reaches his hands up her ribs to cup and massage her breasts, Britta whispers, “Oh, God, Jeff,” and it’s so hot that he needs to pause for a second. He breaks away from her and smirks, saying, “I thought you didn’t believe in God.”</p><p>She digs her nails into his thighs and responds, “Shut up Winger,” before pressing her body even more into his and kissing him like her life depends on it. True to her personality, Britta doesn’t do anything small. Whether ranting about the government or making out in a car, she’s all passion all the time. When she goes off on insane political tangents, it’s something Jeff finds hilarious. When she’s kissing him like this, her passion becomes like oxygen for him. He needs to remain locked in this moment with her. It’s not just that there’s nowhere he’d rather be, it’s that there’s nowhere else he can be right now, and no one else he’d rather be with. But if they don’t move this along soon, he’s going to come in his pants like a pathetic teenager because Britta is basically climbing him like a tree but he’s too tall and the angle is too awkward, and his hands and mouth can’t get everywhere they long to be.</p><p>He clutches her hair in his hands and pulls on it a little, causing her breath to catch in the sexiest way possible. He makes a mental note to add “hair-pulling” along with lip-sucking and dirty talk on his list of Britta Perry turn-ons.</p><p>“Britta—" her name is not an invitation on his lips this time, but rather a plea. He needs her to hear the emotion in his voice, so she doesn’t just think he’s horny and trying to get her in the backseat. I mean, he is, but he’s also desperate to touch and connect with her, to be inside of her, to bring her the pleasure she deserves, and he can’t do any of that from where they are now. “Any chance you’d agree to moving this to the backseat?”</p><p>She looks at him through narrowed eyes, her face red and her lips swollen from all the kisses they’ve shared. He watches as her chest rises and falls as she catches her breath and considers her response. He waits, so hopeful that she’ll agree to continuing this with him, but not wanting to show just how much he needs this, needs her, right now. While his armor has come down quite a bit since meeting her, he’d still like to retain some mystery and power in this relationship.</p><p>“You want to fuck me in the backseat of your car, Jeff? What are we, fourteen?”</p><p>“It’s just a little cramped up here and – wait, <i>fourteen?!</i>”</p><p>He can’t keep the shock and slight admiration out of his voice and Britta just shrugs. God, this woman is a hurricane.</p><p>A small smile creeps over her face as she shifts her body slightly and feels the bulge in his pants against her thigh. She has the upper hand now and she knows it. It’s hot seeing her smug smile and knowing she’s plotting what to do with him and how to do it, but also, as Troy would say, it isn’t. It’s terrifying and he’d like to finagle a power shift as soon as possible. “Alright Jeff, we can move this to the back. But you have to ask <i>nicely.</i>”</p><p>He rolls his eyes at her but continues to stroke and tug at her hair, satisfied to see her eyes blink and head tilt in pleasure for a second. “Britta. Will you please make me the happiest man alive and agree to have sex with me in the back of my car?”</p><p>She leans in and brushes a quick kiss across his lips. “<i>Such</i> a romantic.” Her words don’t answer his question, but the way she climbs even more on top of him to reach across his body and open his car door does. He’s leaning against the door, and he nearly falls back when it opens, but he catches himself and steals one more kiss from her before they both get out of the front of his car and climb into the back, immediately kicking off their shoes. </p><p>Even though it only took seconds to move from one part of the car to the other, the magic has been slightly interrupted as they both stare awkwardly. They face each other in the spacious backseat of his Lexus, both a little unsure of how to make the first move. Desperate to get the moment back, Jeff quietly asks, “So, where were we?”</p><p>Britta scoffs as she begins slowly unbuttoning her white, man-tailored shirt. Jeff is mesmerized with the way each button opens but the shirt stays in place, revealing practically nothing at all, just glimpses of bra and creamy skin. “Ugh. Don’t remind me where I am. Do you have any idea how much of a gas guzzler this car is? The Greenhouse Gas emissions alone are enough to destroy so many species of birds.”</p><p>Her tone is harsh and acts in such contrast to the gentle, seductive movements of her removing her shirt and it is just so Britta that Jeff can’t take it anymore. He lunges toward her and rips the shirt from her body before pulling his own over his head. He kisses her neck and chest and bra-covered breasts while maneuvering their bodies so he’s on top of her. “Britta, shut up, you’re killing the mood.”</p><p>From her position beneath him, she begins undoing his belt. “The mood? The only thing <i>I’m</i> killing by being in this car is the planet.” She runs her fingers along the waist of his pants, grazing his stomach, and he can’t help but contract the muscles there in response to her touch. She’s so soft and hard at the same time - her movements are kind, but her words are combative, and she hurls them like weapons.</p><p>But he does the same as he reaches back to remove her bra, achingly slowly, using his long fingers to tickle her back. “The car isn’t even on,” he shoots back. </p><p>He pauses for a moment to take in her body before he takes each of her breasts in his mouth in turn and licks and sucks on her nipples. She’s so responsive and free like this. He loves the feeling of her writhing underneath him as her breathing grows heavier from stimulation and pleasure.</p><p>Suddenly, he hears her voice again, “Seriously Jeff, do you ever feel guilty about driving this $30,000 love letter to global warming?” It’s then that he realizes that she does get off on their banter just as much as he does. He can play along for a little longer, but not forever. He’s going to need to be inside of her soon, the way she’s stroking him over his pants is ensuring that is the case.</p><p>“Do <i>you</i> ever stop talking?” His voice is strained as her fingers work their way into his pants and wrap around his cock. He moves his mouth from her breasts and kisses down her stomach, taking some time to lick circles around her belly button. He uses his chin to push her leggings down and plants wet kisses along her lower abdomen until he reaches the top of her lacy black thong. He can’t help but sigh in appreciation.</p><p>He’s about to sit up to remove her pants and underwear when she tugs gently on his cock, forcing him to meet her eyes. She looks like a predator about to pounce on its prey as she says, “So then be a man and shut me up.”</p><p>He removes her hands, lifts her up by the ass, and moves her so she’s lying completely underneath him. He peels off her leggings but leaves the thong on for a bit, stroking her clit through the lacy fabric so it adds to the sensation she feels when he’s working her. He knows the scratchy fabric in that sensitive area is going to make her wild and that’s exactly what he wants right now. He stares down at her, head moving from side to side, mouth frozen open in pleasure, and he knows this is a sight he could definitely get used to. No, no matter how much he tries to remove thoughts of her from his brain, he’s not done with Britta Perry, not by a long shot.</p><p>“Be a man? That’s not very empowered of you, Britta.” He moves his hand faster over her clit as he says these words and she starts making quick, mewling sounds, and rocking her hips in time to his motions. He wants to get her off, but not yet and not like this, so he stops abruptly, causing her to whimper at the loss of contact. She looks at him angrily through one open eye and grits her teeth as she pushes his pants and boxers down, leaving them both almost naked. He removes his clothing the rest of the way, discarding everything on the floor of the car. He takes a condom from the emergency stash he keeps in the cupholder behind the driver’s seat, silently thanking the God that may or may not be up there that he had the cockiness and foresight to put them there weeks ago, and stares at her intently.</p><p>She leans up on her elbows, her face practically reaching his, and says, “I personally think it’s very empowering when a woman asks for what she wants.” She takes his bottom lip in hers and nips at it, then sucks away any pain she might have caused.</p><p>Jeff has to swallow down the raw emotion and extreme excitement that her actions stir up in him before he speaks again. “Ok, so then tell me what you want, Britta.” He leans down to her now and kisses her on the mouth, long and deep, like he’s exploring every inch of her. He rubs his lower half along her lower half, and she purrs in pleasure from the sensations mixing together.</p><p>She breaks their kiss and smiles at him. “I want you to finish what you started.” She quickly glances down toward her center and he can’t help but smile at the way she marries sex appeal and innocence.</p><p>He sucks on a spot on her neck that makes her throw her head back before responding to her. “Well, you’ll have to be more specific. I mean, I’ve started a lot of things I haven’t finished. A 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle. Learning Greek. The third season of the Big Bang Theory—” </p><p>She interrupts him with a huff of annoyance and two quick kisses to his lips, eyes narrowed in anger, while she bucks her hips up and into him, connecting with his cock and sending a surge of pleasure through his whole body. It’s going to be hard to keep holding out like this, but God is it worth it just to have some control over the woman he loves, no matter how short-lived. He’d like to think using the word “loves” is surprising. But who is he kidding? Jeff Winger has always been the king of lying, especially to himself, but there’s no denying his feelings for Britta anymore. </p><p>“Jeff...” It’s <i>her</i> turn to say his name pleadingly now, but she’s too proud to actually beg for him, they both know that. He loves knowing that he can get under her skin, but he also wants to make her feel good, so good, better than she’s ever felt before, so it’s time to get this show on the road. He gives her a lascivious smile and says, “Alright, Britta. But you have to ask <i>nicely.</i>”</p><p>He sees her eyes widen as she recognizes her own words being used against her. But, in true Britta fashion, that look only lasts for a second as she decides what to do next - something that will almost inevitably give her the upper hand right back. She leans all the way up on her hands this time so that her face is completely even with Jeff’s and her bare breasts are pressed against his chest. She takes a deep breath, forcing him to close his eyes in sheer pleasure as her skin brushes his, and moves her head to the side, resting her full lips against his ear.</p><p>“Make me come, Jeff. <i>Please.</i>” It is the breathiest whisper he has ever heard and the look she gives him when he can finally make eye contact is searing and intoxicating, but it’s the please that breaks him, just like she knew it would. He pushes her back down and rips off her thong, not even sorry about it as she gasps. Without saying a word, he pushes two fingers inside of her wet opening as far as they can go and starts pumping while rubbing his thumb furiously against her clit, circling the sensitive nub. Britta is calling out his name and growling as she comes, her whole-body convulsing under his before she goes limp. But they’re not done, not even close, that’s evident in the way they stare into each other’s eyes as he uses his knee to push her legs apart further, puts the condom on, and readies himself outside her entrance. She gives him the slightest nod and that’s the consent he needs and then he’s inside her and moving frantically and she’s pressing her fingernails into his ass and practically screaming from pleasure and, for once, they let their bodies do the talking instead of their mouths, revealing their intense feelings for each other without actually having to say anything at all. Britta comes again before Jeff lets go inside her and then they lie there in post-coital bliss, both spent and satisfied and content in their silence.</p><p>Finally, after what feels like days, Britta’s voice rings through the car, “Well, thanks for the ride. Think you could take me home now?”</p><p>Jeff turns to face her and stares into her eyes and he swears he means to make a joke but somehow “I think I love you” comes out instead.</p><p>His words hang in the air between them and he waits for the crushing blow, the cut and run, maybe even the evil laughter since he has just put himself out there in a way that neither of them expected. And he knows her so well that he’s sure she means to do any or all of those things but somehow, “I think I might love you, too” comes out instead.</p><p>And then they both say, “Lame,” as they lie there, looking at each other, because what else <i>could</i> either of them say in a moment as pure as this?</p><p>Jeff’s not sure what to do next, so he kisses her and, even though it’s like the hundredth time he’s done it, this kiss feels different somehow as she kisses him back. It’s full of passion like always, but also potential, promise, possibility – just like her. This can’t end. Not tonight and, hopefully, not ever.</p><p>“Actually, how about I take you to <i>my</i> place? I’ve got a bottle of scotch we could share.”</p><p>Britta nods. “Ok. But we have to pick up Daniel on the way, he can’t be alone all night.”</p><p>“Your cat? I have Egyptian sheets, not Egyptian ideologies.” She looks at him blankly. “The ancient Egyptians worshipped cats, Britta. Please take a history class next semester.”</p><p>“Fine. If you take a political science class.”</p><p>“Ugh. We’ll get the stupid cat.”</p><p>She gives him her best close-lipped, smug smile. “Hey, you should kiss me some more first.”</p><p>“Are you always this demanding?”</p><p>“Are you always this infuriating?”</p><p>“You’re the worst.”</p><p>“You wish.”</p><p>Britta presses him back down against the seat and straddles him, kissing him until they’re both gasping for air.</p><p>And so it begins. The greatest relationship ever known. He’d said that to her at the beginning of this year while they were in the midst of a game of emotional chicken, an epic power struggle in which neither of them would back down nor would they nut up and admit their true feelings for each other. So, they’d done what they do best and pushed each other away. They shoved their feelings down so deep, they’d never surface again. But, it turns out feelings this powerful can’t be ignored. Turns out he’d been right about the two of them all along. He couldn’t wait to tell her that – in the morning.</p>
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